


Certain Tendencies

by achray



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dorian Gray - Freeform, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Manga & Anime, Not Underage, Victorian, Wilde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achray/pseuds/achray
Summary: Ciel sighed. “You are rarely so obtuse,” he said. “I’m not courting death. I’m courting *you*."





	Certain Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing in this fandom, in all senses, but it's not exactly surprising that I would enjoy shamelessly over-the-top neovictorian manga. If you do too, then happy Christmas :)
> 
> Ciel is seventeen in this fic and over the age of consent. If you know this fandom, you know that the relationship between the central characters is very dark and not what you might call healthy. That is reflected in their behaviour here. This also has a very loose relationship to events in either anime or manga and departs significantly from them in some respects.
> 
> If you don't know who Dorian Gray is, look up the plot of Wilde's book (or better still, go read it instead, you're missing out!) or some of this will not make much sense.  
>  Title inspired by this exchange, from Wilde's first trial:  
> Edward Carson: 'The affection and love of the artist of Dorian Gray might lead an ordinary individual to believe that it might have a certain tendency?'  
> Wilde: 'I have no knowledge of the views of ordinary individuals.'

Sebastian stood perfectly still in the receiving line, half aware of the others fidgeting off to his side, his eyes on Ciel welcoming his guests. Elizabeth’s prolonged stay at finishing school in Paris supplied still more benefits than those afforded by her absence from Ciel’s life: the suit she had sent Ciel as a birthday gift, and particularly that precise shade of blue velvet in the jacket, were for once exactly what Sebastian might have chosen himself.

Ciel looked magnificent, though he would have looked still better had he allowed Sebastian to dress him. His shoelaces could have been more evenly tied, and the knot of his tie was a fraction too large. But the overall effect was impressive. Ciel, two days after he had turned seventeen, almost a man; slim and graceful, his childish beauty sharpened into something harder-edged. Like a honed blade, Sebastian thought with pleasure, not for the first time, and all for him alone.

And just below his ear, there, invisible to anyone else, a few fine hairs. In this brief interval between preparations and attending to the guests, Sebastian let himself remember the early morning.

Ciel had refused help in dressing since one particular incident just before his fifteenth birthday. Sebastian blamed the unfortunate loss of this intimacy on the dreary age in which they were trapped. In all of his past centuries a fourteen year old had been considered a man, capable of marrying, siring children, ruling a country. Capable, no matter what their past, of taking what was offered, if someone they desired placed their hands on them a certain way. As opposed to leaping away like a startled hare and giving rash commands, in a voice still breaking.

Still, though he doubted Ciel’s intent had been deliberate, it had been quite clever, ordering Sebastian not to persist. Being denied the pleasure of dressing Ciel, for over two years now, meant that Sebastian spent considerable time thinking about dressing, and undressing, Ciel; and an order not to ‘do that’ invited creative interpretations of what precisely might fall under Ciel’s _that_.

Perhaps the prudishness of this age had its advantages after all. Waiting, testing Ciel’s patience and reserve, knowing he knew that Sebastian would meet his desires - would give perfect satisfaction, in this area as in all others – knowing too that Ciel was aware that Sebastian knew his unspoken desires, and his deliberate resistance to them; this was a more refined pleasure than Sebastian could have imagined.

Sliding his gloved fingers across Ciel’s neck as he removed his overcoat, tightening his necktie, brushing the mud from his breeches after a ride. Such were the subtler, public intimacies that Ciel could not forgo, and which had become part of the game they were playing. No gentleman could refuse to be shaved by his valet, moreover, and since this had become a necessity, there was plenty of enjoyment in the proximity of a sharpened razor to Ciel’s white skin, in holding his face perfectly still and watching the slight tremors, the heightened breathing, that he tried so wonderfully to hide.

This morning, it had been more than usually tempting to trace the path of the razor with an ungloved hand, to raise a bead of blood and lap at it with his tongue. To test the limits of an ill-defined order from nearly three years back and see what would happen if he pushed Ciel, so wary and alive under his hands, if he took him, ready or not. He’d been trembling on the edge of action, poised for the last sweep of the razor, when Ciel’s eye had met his, and he had caught Sebastian’s arm.

“Stop,” he said, swallowing. “That’s enough. I can finish shaving myself.”

Sebastian allowed himself a small smile at the recollection. Ciel’s consciousness of Sebastian’s thoughts, so much more attuned than any of his previous masters, got sharper every passing year. He was never disappointing.

Sebastian, with long and contemptuous knowledge of human nature, had expected that once Ciel reached puberty he would make use of the tie that bound them. As, in the end, all his previous masters and mistresses had done, no matter what their scruples. And most, of course, had had no scruples whatsoever. Fucking them, being fucked by them, performing all varieties of love and perversion that humans had managed to invent throughout the ages – all of this was very familiar, very easy, and generally very boring. His human form felt pleasure, yet this was so fleeting compared to the pleasures of a demon that it was really not worth the effort. Or it never _had_ been worth the effort, before.

Sebastian noted that the last guests had shaken Ciel’s hand, and that Ciel was following them into the ballroom, making at least a semblance of polite conversation. He still loathed parties, which was why Sebastian had so firmly insisted that the head of the firm, no longer a child, needed to throw at least one ball a year.

Sebastian turned to glare at the other servants.

“Your duties?” he said.

“Watch the perimeter!” said Finny, half-saluting.

“I’ll be on the battlements, sir!” said Mey-Rin, pushing up her glasses.

“Helping in the kitchen?” tried Baldroy.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“All right, all right. Guarding the entrances. I’ll need _access_ to the kitchens, though. For my…supplies.”

Tanaka chuckled.

Sebastian sighed. “As long as you keep out of the way of the hired staff, and ensure a complete absence of assassins, gunmen, circus freaks, ninjas and thugs from Master Ciel’s celebration, you may do as you wish. We all remember what happened _last_ year.”

There was a collective wince.

“Yes, quite,” said Sebastian. “I anticipate a quiet night, but it is always preferable to be prepared, as one of our more tedious military guests would say.”

He watched the others out, and then turned towards the ballroom. Much as he would have liked to run this ball solely with his own trained staff, he had to admit that the small fortune spent on hiring half of the Ritz’s employees for the evening had enabled a certain relaxation of a Phantomhive butler’s usual duties.

He looked towards the ballroom, where the music for the first dance had started up and Ciel could be glimpsed through the doorway, stiffly revolving with a polite half-smile scarcely disguising his grim determination to get it over with. Sebastian smiled again – a waitress leaving the ballroom with her tray squeaked and barely managed not to drop it – and went to check on the progress of the canapés.

***

Three hours later, the dancing remained in full swing. Every dim corner held a courting couple, made bold by the very expensive champagne Sebastian had liberally ordered, and the elder guests were settled at the whist tables with their liqueurs. No-one had yet besieged the Manor or murdered any of the guests. In fact, everything was going swimmingly well.

Sebastian, in a pause from surveilling the ballroom for empty glasses, noted that he had not seen Ciel in some time. He had been in the billiards room, engaged in useful business negotiations with a hand-picked group of invitees. But he wasn’t there now, nor had he been dragged back on to the dance floor. Sebastian withdrew slightly into the shadows and let himself sweep the house: not in the bathrooms, or hiding from the guests in his suite, or – ah, there he was, in the conservatory, with one other person, probably male. There was no immediate sign he was in danger, but this meant little when it came to Ciel. Sebastian headed purposefully in his direction.

The conservatory was warm and scented, full of the sound of trickling water. Ciel was seated on one of the low walls edging the flower-beds, looking up at a young man who was leaning casually against a stone urn, obviously posing. He was twirling an orchid in his fingers and, as Sebastian watched, bent to breathe in its perfume. Sebastian noted with annoyance that it was a particularly rare variety he had personally sourced in Borneo.

“It suits you,” said Ciel. He sounded amused.

“A beautiful specimen,” said the young man. “But so fragile, of course.” He brushed the orchid against his lips and then bent down.

“A glorious scent, wouldn’t you say?” he said, holding the flower to Ciel’s lips.

Sebastian, poised to interrupt politely, froze. He quietly slid into the darker space beside the doorframe, becoming part of that darkness. He could see Ciel swallow. The young man smiled, and slid the orchid up to tuck it behind Ciel’s ear.

Sebastian’s fist clenched. He did not recall ever seeing this man before. He looked to be a few years older than Ciel, he had curling golden hair and a perfect profile, he was, by human standards, almost superhumanly beautiful, and Sebastian had no information on how Ciel knew him and who he was. Evidently there had been a significant dereliction of duty.

Ciel reached up and touched the orchid, self-consciously.

“It’s a particularly rare variety,” he said. “We have nothing but the best here, of course.”

“Naturally,” said the young man, looking at Ciel, who flushed. The stranger smiled – a little mockingly, Sebastian thought – straightened, stretched and yawned. Sebastian marked how Ciel’s eye tracked the line of his body.

“Parties are so dull, generally,” the young man said. He met Ciel’s eyes again. “Everything is dull. Though you at least are always interesting, Lord Phantomhive.”

“You’re a little young to be so jaded, surely,” said Ciel, still looking at him.

“It does seem so, does it not,” said the man. He sighed. “So many parties, so many men and women; after a while it all comes to seem utterly tedious. You, though, Ciel – I may I call you Ciel, mayn’t I? – you seem so…fresh. So…untouched. Like a bud, coming into bloom. When I look at you, I feel you could almost – revive my palate.” He reached out and drew a finger down Ciel’s cheek.

Ciel snorted slightly, but he did not draw away.

“I’m less _untouched_ than you seem to think,” he said. “I’ve been head of my family and my company since I was twelve years old. There’s little I haven’t seen or done, in those years.”

“Is that so?” said the young man, lightly, smiling at him. “You must tell me more of your – experiences, then. I might even find that intriguing. And I can certainly treat you well in return, if you entertain me. You find me beautiful, no?”

Ciel half-laughed. “Yes,” he said. “You know I do - Dorian. And you know all society does.”

“But I do not find them in the least beautiful in return,” said the man – Dorian. “Whereas you, my sweet Ciel– ” He bent over Ciel.

Sebastian was conscious that his eyes were beginning to glow red, and that he was perhaps seconds away from ripping this intruder into tiny shreds for his presumption. Luckily – and inexcusably, since he had not even noticed their approach – at that moment two other young men, rather the worse for wear, burst in through the door to the gardens.

Dorian stood up languidly, and Ciel moved a little away from him, pulling the orchid from his hair and dropping it, his cheeks red.

“I say!” said one of the intruders, waving a bottle of champagne. ‘Splendid party, eh? Can’t remember when I last had such good fizz. Phantomhive must be even more stinking rich than we heard.”

“This is the Earl, James,” said Dorian, amused, gesturing towards Ciel, who stood up and made a brief bow.

“Ciel,” said Dorian. “These are James and Fred. I’m sure they mean to apologize, as we are rather trespassing on your hospitality without a formal invite.”

“Dreadfully sorry, old chap,” said James. “No offence meant, naturally. Pleasure to shake – to make – your acquaintance.”

“Must you get drunk in such a vulgar way?” said Dorian.

“Our apologies,” said the one identified as Fred, grinning at Ciel, who raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re simply enjoying ourselves so much. I must congratulate you on a magnificent event.”

Ciel waved a hand, dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I have an excellent butler. Phantomhive servants can always be trusted to surpass the expectations of our guests.”

“Butler!” said James. “That’s the one we were looking for.” He staggered into Fred, clutching him to keep himself upright. “Magnificent specimen” – he waved a hand up and down – “tall, dark, mysterious; everything we want in our intimates, eh, Dorian? Hoping we might find him loitering in the bushes, if you know what I mean.”

It would have taken Sebastian less than three seconds to slash his throat, with his bare hands: his fingers twitched. He ran through a rapid calculation as to where he might conceal three bodies until the party was safely over.

“James!” said Fred. “I do apologize, my lord, my friend’s had rather too much to drink, he has no idea – ”

“No need, Fred,” said Dorian, his lips curling. “Ciel won’t be shocked, will you? I believe he understands us perfectly.”

“Indeed,” said Ciel, coolly, drawing himself more upright. “Though I would counsel you not to proposition my butler, or you might receive an unpleasant surprise.”

“I shall take your word for it,” said Fred. James had slumped onto his shoulder and closed his eyes. Fred tightened an arm around him and grinned at Ciel, knowingly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Phantomhive. Are you joining Dorian’s country house party tomorrow? I do hope so. It’s been eons since we had a fresh face there.”

“I – ” said Ciel.

“I was about to persuade him, when you interrupted us,” said Dorian. He turned to Ciel. “Do come. Not all my – friends – are such boors. I strive to keep my parties select, for those who wish to experience certain freedoms which society cannot offer elsewhere.”

“Excellent opium too, if that’s your interest,” said Fred. “In fact, you know our supplier, don’t you? What’s his name, Lau, is it? Saw him in the billiards room a moment ago.”

“That’s how Ciel and I found each other,” said Dorian, smiling at him. “I was astonished, to find such a rare jewel in such a place.”

Sebastian, distracted for a moment from thoughts of murder, frowned. There had been that occasion when Ciel had sent him on an urgent errand while he had a brief meeting with Lau. Several occasions recently, in fact. It had been irritating, but not suspicious. Had Ciel _lied_ to him? That was….infuriating. And rather impressive, if it were true.

He looked at Dorian, narrow-eyed. It was perhaps not so very surprising that Ciel seemed enthralled by him. Other than his looks, though, he had the air of the usual wealthy young man about town, if better and more aesthetically dressed than most. He did not look dangerous, though appearances might well be deceptive. Sebastian had a deep urge to peel him open and find out exactly how often and for what purpose he had met with Ciel, and he would have been quite happy to live with Ciel’s anger as a consequence.

Ciel was gazing at Dorian with what was almost a genuine, and disturbingly adoring, half-smile.

“I was equally – surprised,” he said.

“So,” said Dorian. “It’s settled. You know my estate at Selby, surely. We’re returning there tonight: do join us tomorrow and remain for the weekend.”

Ciel hesitated a moment, and then smiled more fully.

“I would be honoured,” he said. “Though now, I believe you must excuse me” – he sketched an apologetic gesture towards the others - “as I hear the final waltz beginning, and I am promised to a partner.”

“We’ll dance tomorrow, perhaps,” said Dorian, low, and he brushed his hand over Ciel’s hair, casually. Ciel glanced at him, bit his lip, and left, brushing past Sebastian’s hiding place without a sign. Dorian watched him go.

“He’s almost begging you to ruin him, isn’t he,” said Fred, matter-of-fact. “As we all do.” He heaved his friend more upright. “You might be stuck with James at Selby for a while; the paterfamilias threw him out earlier today, after that affair with the waiter hit the scandal sheets. Hence the state he’s in.”

“That’s hardly my business,” said Dorian. “Men make their own choices.” He pulled a cigarette case from his pocket. “I’m going to walk round to the carriage and get out of this ghastly place, are you coming? Leave him here if he can’t walk, I’m sure a servant will find him.”

“I’ll bring him,” said Fred. “Take the bottle before it smashes, though; it’s a long drive.”

“If you insist,” said Dorian, and he snagged the champagne from James’s grasp and pushed open the garden doors, Fred swearing and steering James through after him.

Sebastian stood motionless for a few moments. Ciel was playing a game, and doing so without him. Or was he? His instinct was to destroy Dorian and these other men, for even thinking of laying a finger on Ciel. But Ciel was no longer twelve, and he did appear to be choosing for himself. And if this was a different kind of game – if this was business – he would be unhappy if Sebastian interfered, and would surely tell him about it imminently. Sebastian sighed, slowly unclenched his hands, and went to ensure the swift and painless dispersal of the night’s guests.

***

Ciel said nothing after the final carriage pulled out of the driveway, other than announcing that he was going to bed and required no assistance. Sebastian had already lit the fires in his rooms, so had little excuse for following him.

And the next morning, when Sebastian came in with the breakfast tray, Ciel said nothing either, at first. Sebastian served him tea, pulled back the curtains with exaggerated care, and went to the chest of drawers.

“Will you be needing any particular outfit for today, my lord?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Ciel, decisively. He sipped his tea, considering. “I need something in the newest style. Select something suitable from the most recent tailor’s order. In fact, I will need you to pack a bag. I am going away for the night. Possibly two nights.”

“Ah?” said Sebastian. “Might I enquire where?” He had some trouble stopping the question coming out as a snarl.

Ciel sighed, setting his teacup down. “You can drop the pretence,” he said. “I do know you were there. Do you think I don’t know when you’re watching me?”

Sebastian turned. He knew his eyes were flickering out of their human colours, and he didn’t care. “I’m always watching you,” he said.

“As I you,” said Ciel. He held Sebastian’s gaze for a long moment, then looked away, shivering slightly.

“So you really intend to go to this – house party,” said Sebastian. “Who, if I might enquire, is your new _friend_?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know him,” said Ciel. “He’s been a staple of fashionable London for several years, or so I hear. As I tend to avoid the season whenever possible, our paths had not previously crossed. But I imagined the name of Dorian Gray might mean something to you.”

Sebastian folded his arms. “I rarely follow the affairs of socialites, unless by your express order,” he said. “I did take the opportunity to familiarize myself with some of the gossip about _Dorian_ while you slept, however. And I am afraid that, as someone with a care to the honour of your name, I cannot advise that you accept his invitation. Unless you have an exterior motive, of course….”

“I should have thought my motive was perfectly obvious,” said Ciel. “You’re the one who is always complaining that humans are shallow. He is one of the most attractive creatures I have ever met, what more motive do I need?”

Sebastian hissed before he could stop himself. Ciel was still watching him. He turned away, opening a drawer at random and selecting some silk knit socks; regaining control.

“Attractive?” he said, as coldly as possible, turning back to face Ciel. “I thought him a posing sodomite. You can hardly expect Her Majesty to be happy if you join a crowd notorious for their indecency. Several of your Dorian’s friends have been arrested in flagrante, I believe. What would she think of you, my lord, if this little house party was raided by the Yard?”

“It’s a little late and highly hypocritical for you to find a sense of prudery,” said Ciel, his eyes narrowed. “You may recall the time you had – carnal relations – with a _nun_. Rather dramatically. In a _barn_. While I was waiting immediately outside, I might add. And as my butler, it is not your place to comment on my – my private life. In fact – let me make this an order. You will not stop me from going to Dorian’s house today, and you will not accompany or follow me.”

His right eye blazed. Sebastian felt the answering glow on his hand. He ground his teeth.

“Yes, my lord,” he said.

“Good,” said Ciel. He pushed back the covers and swung his legs round to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for his eyepatch and beginning to tie it clumsily, himself. Sebastian did not go to help him.

“I never expected to reach seventeen, of course,” said Ciel, finishing his knotting. He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know why I – why we – are still as we are. But I’m not a child any more, Sebastian.” He looked up.

“I have not considered you a child for quite some time,” said Sebastian. “If ever. Though if you think that becoming infatuated with a – a simpering blue-eyed fop makes you a man, then you are very much mistaken. My lord.”

Ciel’s mouth curled. “You are jealous,” he said.

“Of course not,” said Sebastian, sharply. “I am merely – looking out for my master’s wellbeing. As would any butler worth his salt.”

Ciel stood up. He walked a few steps closer to Sebastian and looked up at him. Sebastian always found it mildly disconcerting that Ciel had finally grown, that now, though he would never be tall, Ciel only had to tip his head back a little to look Sebastian in the eye.

“Perhaps I want you to be jealous,” said Ciel. “Perhaps I want you _hungry_.”

He turned away, before Sebastian had thought of the appropriate response. “Or perhaps I don’t care, either way. Now go, I will dress myself.”

Sebastian stood poised for a moment, looking at Ciel’s form under his thin nightshirt, and then abruptly left the room. He stopped immediately outside. Ciel had not technically _ordered_ him to go. He could go back into the room, he could – He snarled at himself. Why did he _care_ about a stupid, puny, endlessly irritating young human; why was it that he was aroused, that he – _he_ , an ageless demon – was almost trembling with desire and possession, within the body he was wearing.

Ciel was _his_ to take, in all possible ways, and he was supposed to know this. Sebastian would go back in and – and in his current mood, Ciel might very well end up torn to pieces, and where then would be the purpose of all these years of waiting? He took some deep breaths, trying to calm both the human and demon parts of himself.

Then he stalked down the corridor and down the stairs to find the servants.

They were sitting round the kitchen table, apparently gossiping rather than doing any actual work. Sebastian gave them all a quelling look.

“Where is Tanaka?” he ordered.

“Here,” said Tanaka, emerging from the larder with a pot of tea.

“Good,” said Sebastian. “You three, get to work. All traces of last night must be erased by the time the master leaves his rooms. Tanaka, Master Ciel will be visiting a – an acquaintance for the weekend. Kindly go to his rooms and pack a weekend bag. He will require at least two casual suits and the appropriate linen: see to it as soon as possible. And you had best ask him when he wants the carriage ordered. I would prefer it if you drove him yourself.”

Tanaka nodded, unruffled. The others were staring at Sebastian like gaping fish.

“But aren’t you going with him too?” said Finny.

“Everything all right?” said Baldroy.

“Everything is _perfectly fine_ ,” said Sebastian, through his teeth. “I have – urgent business in London, which my lord has particularly asked me to attend to. Now, is there a reason why you are not obeying my explicit orders?”

They jumped up and fled, chairs crashing over in their wake. Tanaka remained, regarding Sebastian shrewdly.

“Were there any more orders?” he said.

“No,” said Sebastian. “That is, our master is set on a particular course which I consider unwise. I have expressed my opinion to him, and I suspect you would agree. Needless to add, he does not. But I should not wish him to be….unprotected if he persists in this course.”

“I see,” said Tanaka. “I shall be happy to stand in your stead, in as much as this is possible”, and he made his most courtly bow.

**

Sebastian ran all the way to London, moving to the rooftops as he reached the outskirts. He found it helped, slightly.

He landed lightly in front of the Undertaker’s shop, brushing a few grains of dust from his suit, and walked in.

“Well, well, what have we here?” said the Undertaker, shuffling out from the back and rubbing his hands. “Sebastian, all alone-o, no master in sight. Trouble in paradise, eh?” He cackled merrily at his joke.

Sebastian sighed. “Very witty,” he said. “I need some information. Name your price.”

“Oh, you’ve already amused me enough for several days, my dear,” said the Undertaker. “Look at you, with your feathers all ruffled, I always thought that boy had it in him.”

Sebastian frowned. “Your imagination is running riot today, I must say,” he said coldly. “However. I – _we_ – are interested to know if anyone has come…under your purview who was put there by a Mr Dorian Gray.”

“Dorian Gray, hmmm,” said the Undertaker. “Now there’s an interesting one. Something fishy with that young man, oh yes. You’ve seen him, I assume?”

“From a distance,” said Sebastian. “I saw nothing immediately – untoward.”

“Not _immediate_ , no,” said the Undertaker. “I wouldn’t say that. I might look just a little harder next time if I were you, though. As to my employment, ah, it’s the same story there. Nothing immediate, but here and there a blooming young girl” – his fingers sketched a shape in the air, “poisoned – or a fresh young man with his brains blown out” – he made the shape of a gun, pointing it at Sebastian – “by their own hands, of course, but why, we might ask?”

“Hmm,” said Sebastian. He had been rather hoping for some nice clean murders.

“So….” said the Undertaker, pulling himself up to perch on the counter and leering at Sebastian. “Why the sudden interest, eh? Could the beautiful Mr Gray possibly be – a _love rival_?” He started laughing again, flopping sideways onto the counter.

“I must be going,” said Sebastian. “Thank you for your assistance.” He swept out.

“All’s fair in love and war, remember!” the Undertaker called after him, and then relapsed into laughter.

Sebastian stood outside the shop and considered. The Undertaker was highly unlikely to mention this visit to Ciel, at least in the immediate future. Lau, on the other hand, was extremely likely to tell Ciel if Sebastian dropped by, if only to make mischief.

In his research of the previous night – a waste of the time he had intended to spend sorting out the Manor after the party – he had identified Dorian Gray’s address. He glanced around, leaped lightly to the rooftops again, and moved towards it.

Dorian lived in a standard white wedding-cake Georgian house in one of London’s more fashionable quarters. Sebastian contemplated ringing the doorbell with a pretext. If Dorian had servants in residence who paid any attention, however, his visit might be reported. He moved round the back of the house, into the mews, let himself over the wall into the garden, and inspected the windows. One on the ground floor, a little out of human reach, was a fraction open, so it took him only a moment to enter, checking for servants. But the house was quiet, scented with flowers, polish and some form of Eastern incense, with a faint thread beneath it of opium.

Sebastian found himself in a morning-room decorated in what he supposed was the latest vulgar aesthetic style, with a great many expensive and pretentious ornaments and china. Some of the artefacts appeared genuinely valuable – Sebastian doubted Dorian had any idea what might be done with the bronze ritual dagger on his coffee table – others were mere whimsy.

The only item of interest, he considered, was a large antique chest in the corner. He had a small sewing kit in one pocket: he removed a needle and carefully picked the lock. The chest was full of clothes, tumbled about; Sebastian turned them over and briefly established that they were all the same size, and that half of them were women’s clothes, some in the height of fashion, others designedly lower-class. The men’s clothes were clearly disguises, and included a passable sailor’s costume and several coarse garments which Sebastian supposed would present the wearer as a down-at-heel young working man.

He raised an eyebrow. Unfortunately, given Ciel’s own carefully curated wardrobe of men’s and women’s clothing, this was a discovery which was more likely to create a bond between Dorian and Ciel than forcibly separate them. Of course, Ciel had never worn women’s clothing, charming as he appeared in it, for pleasure rather than for work. At least as far as Sebastian knew, that was. Possibly, it was emerging, this was not as far as he had thought. His fingers clenched in a handful of silk and ribbons.

This was nothing. Sebastian tossed the clothes back in, clicked the lock and looked around. The house was entirely silent: if any staff were present, they must be downstairs in the kitchen. He padded carefully through the rooms, checking each. There were some vials of various kinds of poison in another smaller chest, assorted other minor weaponry, and an extensive collection of lavishly bound erotica and the latest French novels on the study shelves.

None of this was _useful_ , however. The desk drawers seemed to hold a promising collection of love letters, passionately addressed to Dorian, in virtually the same terms, and, Sebastian suspected, in both men’s and women’s hands. He could hardly believe Ciel would be foolish enough to commit himself on paper, but he still scanned them quickly for a familiar script. ‘The curves of your lips rewrite history,’ he read, raising his eyes to the heavens. Really, what was wrong with the youth of the period? He rifled through the letters, but there was little of interest; Ciel obviously already knew Dorian’s reputation and was unlikely to be swayed by more evidence of his seductive powers.

Upstairs, Sebastian found a selection of bedrooms decorated in irritatingly fanciful styles. He was most attentive in the one that appeared to be the master bedroom, since it was much more untidy; with sheets rumpled and clothes tossed about the floor. The only thing of significance here, however, was a cabinet. Filled with…devices.

Sebastian picked the lock again and opened the doors. It looked as though some objects were missing. He had been carefully not thinking about Ciel, who was on his way to Dorian if not there already, about the bed in this room stinking, to a demon’s senses, of at least five different humans and their spendings. It was very difficult _not_ to think, however, when confronted with the possibility that Dorian might use these things with Ciel, _on_ Ciel. Sebastian had never felt the need for toys or implements himself, unless his master or mistress had required it; it had seemed another minor and pointless human interest. Maybe Ciel shared it. Maybe – Sebastian’s eyes fell on a top row of dildos of varying size, with several spaces – maybe Dorian and his friends would, maybe he or they were – maybe Ciel had been in this room, this bed, already –

Sebastian shut the cabinet doors with such force that the glass splintered and cracked. The images in his mind were unbearably clear. He stood still for several moments, feeling murderous. He was strongly tempted to set this vile house on fire and watch it burn, but the Undertaker had told him to look more closely, which meant there must be something he hadn’t yet discovered. And if he burned down Dorian’s house, Ciel would unquestionably know he’d done it.

He left the bedroom behind him and ran up the stairs, last flight before the attics, determined to get this over with. There were two more bedrooms and a bathroom here, and then a locked door, at the back of the house. Interesting. Sebastian picked the lock and entered. At first glance it seemed like a store-room, filled with odds and ends of unwanted furniture. He looked around. The only thing of note seemed to be something large hanging on the wall, swathed in crimson drapery. There was a chair in front of it, as though for an observer. Sebastian considered this a moment, and then went to pull off the drapery.

He stood back and looked at the portrait, for some time. Then he smiled.

**

In theory, it was not _following_ someone to a location if one happened to arrive at the same place some time after they had. Therefore, Sebastian was not disobeying Ciel’s order if he chanced to have business at the country house of Selby. Just in case, however, he had purloined a selection of letters addressed to Dorian Gray, so that he had a separate and ostensible reason to be there.

This reasoning seemed to work, since he’d suffered no consequences since passing the gates. By now it was evening, dusk falling in purple shadows. He could hear sounds from the house as he approached, voices laughing and calling, someone playing a piano, badly. He approached quietly. The drapes on the main windows had been left open, and the sashes were pulled up, light, noise and the smell of cigar smoke pouring extravagantly out. Inside, was what would have passed as an elegant drawing-room, if it had not been in such a state of disarray. Bottles were rolling on the floor, a large wine-stain clearly visible on a Persian rug; dirty plates were still sitting on the table; with a centerpiece of melting ice spreading across the cloth; Eastern-looking cushions were strewn around the room in disarray. It was horrible.

Sebastian was so preoccupied with this disgrace to all sense of propriety that he at first barely noticed the other forms of impropriety taking place. One young woman, quite obviously a prostitute, breasts almost bare, was hanging over a shirtless man at the piano as he picked out a tune one-handed, the other buried in her skirts. Two people of indeterminate sex were lying on the hearthrug, entangled. A group of men and women seated round one end of the table were playing cards, raucously, all in differing states of undress.

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened: one of them was Ciel. He shifted his position by the window, to see better. Ciel’s hair was disheveled, he was flushed, and his shirt was entirely undone. While the others were drinking and talking, he appeared to be concentrating on the play. Eventually, in no method that Sebastian recognized, the turn fell to Ciel, and he set down a card.

“Hearts,” he said.

“A forfeit!” called the man next to him, thumping him on the back.

Ciel shrugged. “Your rules change with every play, Eustace.”

“That’s the fun of it,” said a slightly familiar man, with reddish hair and currently also shirtless; Sebastian placed him as the one called Fred, from the night before.

“Your turn then, Fred,” said someone else. “Hearts for a kiss, eh?”

Fred grinned. “No hardship,” he said, standing up lazily. He circled the table, Ciel stood up – and then they were kissing, fully, and not as though it were the first time for either. The others round the table were laughing and whistling. Sebastian barely heard them. Fred was only slightly taller than Ciel; Ciel had one hand hooked round the back of his neck, pulling him down; their bodies were pressed together at the waist, Fred’s hand on Ciel’s bare back.

Eventually they broke apart a short distance, Ciel’s mouth red, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Take your boy upstairs, why don’t you,” said one of the women, in a far more common accent than the men. “Or at least clear out of the way. You’re ruining the game.”

“He’s Dorian’s boy, really,” said Fred. His arm was still around Ciel, but he turned to look towards a window recess out of Sebastian’s view, as did Ciel, hiding his expression from Sebastian. “Well? Shall we?”

Dorian came towards them. Unlike the others, he was immaculately attired, in a cream shirt and dove-grey trousers and waistcoat, smoking his cigarette. He looked at Ciel, his perfect features apparently dispassionate.

“Why not,” he said. He dropped the cigarette and ground it out, on the carpet. “The game is getting a little tedious.” He looked directly at Ciel. “If you’re sure, that is. All my guests choose for themselves.”

“And take the consequences,” said Fred, “isn’t that right? I don’t think we need worry about this one, though.” His hand slid down Ciel’s back and cupped his arse, squeezing.

“Certainly, such beauty should not waste its sweetness,” said Dorian. “Are you willing, my dear Ciel?”

“I would scarcely be here, otherwise,” said Ciel. Sebastian still could not see his face. His voice sounded calm, unmoved. “Isn’t this enough discussion? We’re holding up play.”

Fred laughed, amused, and bent down to kiss Ciel again. “Eager,” he said. “Come on, then.” He slung his arm around Ciel’s shoulder, Dorian moving to flank him, and they headed towards the doors. As they passed the window Ciel turned his head, and for one fraction of a moment he looked straight at Sebastian, his face impassive. Then he turned away.

One of the card-players sang the first line of a bawdy song, too loudly, and the others laughed. The doors swung closed behind Ciel and his companions.

Sebastian was shaking with suppressed rage, blurring out of his human shape. He reached out for the wall of the house and felt the stone begin to crumble under his grip. He could bring the house down, burying Ciel under the rubble, or plucking him out at the last instant as his friends died. He could make Ciel watch as those men suffered, as Sebastian tortured them slowly, as their lives unspooled. Dorian might have secrets, but he could die like any other human, and be revealed in his true form: then Ciel would see, would understand who he was giving himself to –

Sebastian made to enter by the window. He would start by slaughtering everyone in the room. But as he did, he felt rather than heard an order taking hold; Ciel forbidding him entrance. The symbol on his hand burned as he fought it, uselessly, of course. Ciel had seen him, and had deliberately shut him out. Of all the ungrateful, vindictive, foolish – Sebastian ought to slaughter _him_ , along with his degenerate friends –

He had no sense of how long he stood there, night closing around him, but eventually he was brought abruptly back to his human self by a discreet cough.

He turned and saw Tanaka, incongruously holding a tea-tray.

“I came to enquire if you wished for some tea in the grooms’ quarters,” said Tanaka. “Our master indicated that you had arrived, and asked me to convey that you should return to the London house and await him there. However, there is no immediate haste.”

Sebastian gathered himself together.

“I – must decline, I am afraid,” he said. “To the London house? May I ask if he gave this order in person?”

“Not as such,” said Tanaka. “He sent a note to the kitchens. Are you certain you do not require sustenance?” He brandished the tray.

“It is rather past the customary hour for tea,” said Sebastian. “I am…happy to be informed of my lord’s orders. I shall obey them forthwith. Might you, in turn, convey that I have certain – information about his host, which he may wish to learn?”

Tanaka nodded. He hesitated a moment. “I understand your concerns,” he said eventually. “However, I believe that Master Ciel is in no danger. Youth must have its follies. Well – I shall return to my duties, then, and we shall no doubt see you tomorrow evening.”

Sebastian bowed rather than speaking, and Tanaka bowed in return and walked off round the corner of the house, the tray clinking mournfully.

Back to London, then. Thankfully Agni and Soma were on an extended visit to India, as Sebastian was not entirely sure of his control. Tanaka had not asked how he would get to London, he noted. In the event, another run seemed to be called for. And if anything got in his way, he would annihilate it.

**

Tanaka drove up to the house at precisely ten pm the following day. Ciel emerged from the back of the carriage, yawning. Sebastian was standing on the front steps to welcome them, perfectly still, the way a good butler would.

“Sebastian,” said Ciel, coming up the steps. He stopped and looked Sebastian up and down. Sebastian remained entirely impassive, gazing into the distance. He was trying not to breathe in, because if he scented others on Ciel…

Ciel sighed. “I had an excellent weekend, since you ask,” he said. “We will speak further tomorrow. I have dined and I shall retire immediately. Assist Tanaka with my bags, will you?”

Sebastian bowed, opening the doors for him and standing aside: Ciel swept past. Tanaka had already started removing bags from the carriage; Sebastian ground his teeth, went down the steps, and began to help.

The next morning, Sebastian’s anger had cooled off slightly, but he was still sharply on edge. It was his own fault, he had told himself repeatedly, for becoming – invested – in a human. Ciel’s soul was his, and if anyone damaged it, they would answer for it. But Ciel’s body was not, necessarily, part of the bargain. Possessiveness was part of his nature. Lusting after a mortal being did not have to be. He would quash it, given a short space of time, during which he would behave impeccably, as suited his role.

However, this did not mean that Ciel should not be informed about the secrets of his weekend companions. Sebastian waited until Ciel had risen – late – yawned over his late breakfast and lunch, read the papers and looked over a set of financial reports. He made a special selection of chocolate petits-fours, and brought them in with the afternoon coffee. Ciel had abandoned the reports and was staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

Sebastian coughed.

“My lord,” he said.

“Sebastian,” said Ciel. He looked at the sweets. “Thank you. I wished to speak with you. You followed me yesterday against my express order. I believe there was something you wished to inform me of?”

“Naturally, my lord,” said Sebastian, with the perfect tone of slightly offended innocence. “I would not have intruded upon you otherwise.”

Ciel raised his eyebrows slightly, but did not say anything.

“In the course of my researches, I had discovered reason to be suspicious that Mr Dorian Gray was not all he seemed. Therefore, I investigated his London house. Where I found….” He trailed off, very deliberately.

“Are you going to tell me, or not?” said Ciel. “You know how I dislike these cryptic hints.”

“You do not know already, then?” said Sebastian. “It might be preferable for you to see for yourself. In case you might not take my word for it.”

“Hmm,” said Ciel. “I wanted to – ”. He broke off. “Never mind. I assume this will keep until tomorrow, and we can pay Dorian or his home a visit then?” He pushed the papers away from him. “I believe I will rest until dinner, and it will be too late for expeditions afterwards. I had a rather exhausting night.”

He looked up at Sebastian, who could not quite hide his response, and gave him a knowing half-smile. Sebastian lifted his chin and stared straight ahead.

Ciel sighed. “You are dismissed,” he said, and Sebastian bowed and left.

The following day, Ciel ordered the carriage for four in the afternoon, spending the morning meeting with some of his London associates. Sebastian said nothing beyond what was required for his official duties, and neither did Ciel.

At four promptly, he opened the door for Ciel, and escorted him to the waiting carriage, with Tanaka seated on the driver’s box. Sebastian made to join him, but Ciel laid a hand on his arm.

“We still have matters to discuss,” he said. “Tanaka, do not interrupt until we reach our destination.” He gestured imperiously, and Sebastian joined him in the carriage, sitting rigidly on the opposite bench. The carriage set off, jolting down the streets.

“I believe that you lied to me, yesterday,” said Ciel, breaking an uncomfortable silence. “Or at least, since I know you never lie, you told me half-truths. I am almost convinced that you had other motives. In your….activities of Saturday night. That perhaps, your interest lay primarily in what I was doing, and who I was doing it with.”

Sebastian lifted one shoulder slightly. He looked intently out at the passing street.

“Well?” said Ciel. “If you wish to know, you have my permission to ask questions.”

“Questions, my lord?” said Sebastian. “I do not believe your behaviour is my business. As your butler.”

“Of course,” said Ciel. “Yet I imagine you are curious. Since you went to such lengths to investigate Dorian.”

Sebastian shrugged again, without turning around.

“Very well,” said Ciel. “Let me surmise. You have never been troubled by my relationship with Lizzie, and you find it amusing when I am approached by women. However, you are evidently concerned by Dorian. Because you do not wish me to have relations with other men.”

“I really see no need for this discussion,” said Sebastian. He carefully relaxed his hands.

“Allow me to finish,” said Ciel. “I went to Dorian’s house because I knew I would be able to find out things I wanted to know. I don’t care particularly for him, or Fred, or any of the others, but they are attractive, and they have – knowledge which I do not. Which I _did_ not. I wanted to – I wanted to see what it was like. And if I would like it, now that I am older. Some kinds of experience cannot simply be read about in books.”

Sebastian’s gaze fell on an errand-boy, cycling carefully. His bicycle suddenly veered and fell, smoke arising from the basket, people shouting and running towards him. Ciel was _still talking_.

“So I decided to let them take me to bed,” Ciel said, “because – Sebastian, will you look at me? Do I need to make it an order?”

Sebastian turned his head slowly. He expected Ciel to flinch away from him, but Ciel’s nostrils flared, and he met Sebastian’s gaze unhesitatingly, challenging. He looked nervous, but resolute. He leaned forward slightly.

“Sebastian,” he said. He clasped his gloved hands together, twisting them nervously. “You have tormented me for years. I believe I desired you before I understood what desire was. I learned how to want, that I could want, by wanting you. As you very well know. If I had given way, when I was younger, you would have met all my desires, and then felt nothing but contempt for the boy who had so easily succumbed. I would have had contempt for myself, if I had been such a fool. So as it is – “

“As it is,” said Sebastian, finally stung into speech, “you play the fool with others. You give yourself to them, when you should know that you are mine or no-one’s. You enrage me, and court your own death and theirs at my hands – or is this what you truly seek?”

Ciel sighed. “You are rarely so obtuse,” he said. “I’m not courting death. I’m courting _you_. I know you do not feel like a human. You cannot love, you cannot feel compassion, you are never kind. But you can feel jealousy, can you not?”

He shifted further towards Sebastian, to the edge of his seat. His voice lowered, and became urgent. “You can lust for possession. You can burn with fury. You can _desire_. I don’t want to command you. I don’t – I didn’t – want to come to you as an innocent, so that you could condescend to – to fuck me.”

Sebastian blinked, startled. Ciel took a deep breath, and set a hand on Sebastian’s leg, gripping his thigh.

“I want you to forget yourself, Sebastian, to forget what you really are, because you are so desperate to have me in your bed. And if you will not, after all this, then - ” He stopped, swallowing.

Sebastian’s breathing sped up. Ciel’s hand burned him through two layers of cloth: he felt entirely, almost humiliatingly, human and surprised, his body yearning towards this – this extraordinary man. In all his years, all his centuries, he had never thought that a mortal could understand him so well, well enough to enmesh him this thoroughly in human wants. He looked into Ciel’s eye again and saw his own desires reflected back at him.

He licked his lips, letting his teeth show a little, not moving. “You play a dangerous game,” he said, allowing inhuman tones to sound through his words.

Ciel’s mouth quirked. “I always have done,” he said. He slid his hand up further, between Sebastian’s parted thighs, turning and caressing.

Sebastian’s head fell back against the carriage wall, and he heard himself make a choked noise. There was nothing tentative about the way Ciel was touching him.

“I will destroy you,” he said, panting.

“Of course you will,” said Ciel. He sounded breathless.

“I will rend all thoughts of those men from your memory. You will think of _nothing_ but me. You will beg me for release.”

“Yes,” said Ciel.

“I – ” said Sebastian. He reached out to drag Ciel closer.

At that moment the carriage drew to a halt. Ciel pulled back hastily; Sebastian rearranged his clothes and shifted further away. He paused for a moment and then opened the door, slipping out first and offering Ciel a gloved hand to descend.

Ciel gripped his hand, and rubbed his thumb over Sebastian’s palm. Sebastian shuddered. They were on a busy street: Tanaka was watching, he was a butler and had a reputation to retain. He forcibly restrained his hunger.

No-one answered the doorbell, the house as silent as it had been before. Leaving Tanaka to stand guard, he took Ciel the same way he had entered previously, leading him through the silent rooms and up the stairs. He was very aware of Ciel beside him, behind him, of the charge that passed back and forth between them.

Sebastian let Ciel into the store-room, lifted the drapes, and they both looked at the portrait. Ciel examined it in silence.

“I assume you knew he lacked his soul,” said Sebastian, after some time.

“I suspected as much,” said Ciel. “I thought perhaps he might be – might have been – like me, when I first encountered him. We haven’t seen _this_ before, though, have we.” He looked at Sebastian, and then back at the picture.

“It is fiendishly clever,” said Sebastian. “To _show_ such corruption in process. Truly a masterpiece. I should rather like to speak with the artist.” He gestured at the leering elderly face in the portrait. “You knew of it, then? You knew you were not seeing his true form. You knew he was not what he seemed. And yet you let him touch you.”

“You might want to consider what you are saying,” said Ciel, amused. “It appears that being fully human is not one of my requirements, after all.”

Sebastian blinked. Ciel was looking at the portrait again.

“Do you wish me to destroy it?” Sebastian said. “That would also destroy him, I imagine.”

Ciel considered a moment. “He has done me no wrong,” he said. “Undoubtedly, he has wronged a great many, but it is not my purview to rescue people from the consequences of their own follies. He is not involved in the underworld, and I have no orders concerning him. I believe I will leave him to his own devices, for now.”

“If you see him again, I am afraid I shall be obliged to kill him,” said Sebastian. “And his friends.”

Ciel looked at him, something dark in his gaze. “Very touching,” he said. “But that will not be necessary. I have learned all I need.”

“Indeed?” said Sebastian. Ciel was blushing, very slightly. To someone who knew him less well, it would not have been apparent. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. Then he looked directly at Sebastian and deliberately licked his lips.

“There are bedrooms on the floor below us,” he said. His blush deepened.

Sebastian had been considering throwing him to the floor. But it was true, the floor was extremely dusty, and the room perhaps cold for humans. He thought about Dorian’s bedroom, Dorian’s house, and frowned.

“Not here,” he said.

Ciel nodded, breathing out. “The townhouse,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down. “I don’t think – the Manor is too far.”

Sebastian could have returned him there within minutes. It was very tempting. But Tanaka and the carriage were waiting: it would be more than usually difficult to explain.

“Mmm,” he said, agreeing.

Ciel gave the portrait a last look. “If you found the artist, what would you ask him for?”

Sebastian smiled. “Not for what you are thinking. Your soul – it ages like a fine wine. With maturity comes – depth of flavour. And I remain confident that it is worth the wait. No, more likely I should seek to learn his talent, or if not, to ensure his death. It is a dangerous gift.”

Ciel shivered slightly, though Sebastian could not tell if it was from fear or desire.

“Indeed,” he said.

They left the house as quietly as they had come. When they reached the carriage, Ciel hesitated a moment, looking at Sebastian. Sebastian contemplated the cushioned interior, Ciel spread across it. Then he considered the reputation of the Phantomhive family and the fact that a curtained carriage in daylight, bearing its owners’ arms, told its own story.

“I shall sit on the box, my lord,” he said, bowing.

Ciel nodded. “That would be wise,” he said. Then he looked into Sebastian’s face, and raised an eyebrow. “Drive quickly,” he said.

Sebastian bowed lower, and swung himself up.

At the house, Sebastian descended to open the doors for Ciel, and Tanaka, giving Sebastian a look which he preferred not to fully read, drove off. They were alone. Sebastian held the house doors for Ciel, and then shut them carefully behind them. In the half-light of the hall, Ciel turned to look at him, removing his hat and gloves. He held these out to Sebastian, wordlessly. Sebastian contemplated them a moment, and then tossed them to the floor. Ciel’s lips parted. Sebastian began to unbutton Ciel’s coat, with practiced skill.

“That was most unlike you,” said Ciel, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Very,” said Sebastian. He finished the buttons, tugged the coat off Ciel’s shoulders, and let it fall. “Now come upstairs, my lord, if you do not wish me to have you here. I find I have waited long enough.”

“Oh,” said Ciel. “I want – “ He slid a hand round Sebastian’s neck and stretched upwards, angling to meet his lips.

Sebastian had very little interest in kissing, nor did he usually consider it prudent, with humans. But he remembered Ciel kissing that other man, knowing Sebastian was watching, and so he crushed his mouth against Ciel’s and bit at him, deliberately, just hard enough to draw a little blood, hearing Ciel gasp into his mouth. He anticipated Ciel pulling away, not that Sebastian would let him get far, but instead Ciel shifted to open his mouth and kiss Sebastian more urgently, letting Sebastian taste him, taste his blood.

Sebastian made a sound that was not in any way human. He backed Ciel against the wall, a couple of paces away, and pressed against him, shuddering. Ciel’s mouth, his tongue: he cursed himself for never trying this before. After some time, Ciel broke off, breathing hard, and licked the side of Sebastian’s neck. He shifted to press a thigh between Sebastian’s legs.

“They left marks on me,” he said into Sebastian’s ear. “Bruises, scrapes; you will see them – oh!”

Sebastian pinned Ciel’s arms above his head with one hand, easily, faster than Ciel could have thought of resisting, and bit at his neck, not gently. Ciel arched into him. When Sebastian drew back to look at him, his cheeks were flushed and he was biting his lip. He was still wearing layers of clothes; shirt, tie, waistcoat, trousers….

“Is this what you want?” said Sebastian. “To bear _my_ mark, instead?” He bent his head and breathed on the bruise he had made. Ciel shivered.

“Yes,” he said. “This and more. We should – Tanaka – “

“Yes,” said Sebastian. He swung Ciel into his arms, as he had so many times when he was a child, and before he could protest, they were two flights up and Sebastian was opening the door of Ciel’s bedroom. Ciel made an amused noise. He twisted, sliding out of Sebastian’s arms but keeping one arm around his neck, tugging him down to kiss him again.

Sebastian pulled away briefly to shut the bedroom door behind them, casting it a particular look which meant that no-one else would be able to unlock it. The room was warm, evening sunlight falling through the high windows, nothing else was needed.

When he turned back, Ciel was watching him intently.

“Take off your gloves,” he said. “And your jacket and shirt,” he said. “I want you to sit on the bed, here.”

Sebastian raised both eyebrows.

“Please,” said Ciel.

Curious, Sebastian slid his gloves and his jacket off, pulled off his tie in one swift move, and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. He went where Ciel had gestured: Ciel was busy untying his eyepatch, tossing it away.

He expected Ciel to start undressing, next, but instead he crossed the distance to him, and then, entirely unexpectedly, sank to his knees. He pressed Sebastian’s legs apart and knelt between them. Sebastian breathed in sharply. Years of honing his instincts of service and obedience meant that his human self was horrified by this position, though his demon self was delighted to see its prey at such a disadvantage.

Ciel rubbed his face against Sebastian’s thigh and then bent forward, and Sebastian was abruptly returned to mortal senses. Ciel’s mouth, even through layers of cloth – Ciel was unbuttoning his trousers, clumsily, drawing Sebastian out, opening his mouth around the head of Sebastian’s cock –

Sebastian tried to control his breathing. Ciel was obviously unpracticed, but that was part of the pleasure – to see him, Sebastian’s master, wanting this, attempting it. Sebastian’s eyes fell half-closed, enjoying the exquisite sight as much as the sensation.

After a few glorious moments, Ciel pulled off and looked up at Sebastian, who had curled his hands into fists to keep them still.

“Show me,” he said, his voice already husky. Sebastian shuddered. Seeing Ciel like this: Sebastian’s mark in his eye, and his newer marks on Ciel’s neck, in his swollen lips…

“Come _on_ , Sebastian,” Ciel said, impatient.

He tugged one of Sebastian’s hands to his head. Sebastian closed his grip slowly on Ciel’s hair and pulled it, experimentally, then less so, remembering that by his own admission Ciel was not as innocent as he might look, and remembering why. Ciel gasped. He met Sebastian’s eyes, then closed his own, opening his mouth.

Sebastian tentatively, and then more forcefully, tugged at Ciel’s hair, and watched his cock slide into Ciel’s mouth, over and again. It was becoming difficult for him to think rationally. He could scent Ciel’s arousal, as well as his own, and the fact that Ciel was _enjoying_ this, that his cheeks flushed more as Sebastian guided him, less carefully, that he was bringing to this task the same determination he brought to so much else….Sebastian gave up on careful restraint, moving faster in and out of Ciel’s mouth, and holding him in a punishing grip.

He wanted to spend himself in Ciel’s wonderful mouth, he could feel it approaching – but he also wanted, more powerfully, to see Ciel coming apart with desire under his own hands and mouth.

“Stop,” he said, fighting his own urges and pulling Ciel off.

“You do not wish to…?” said Ciel. He was slightly hoarse.

Sebastian did, very much, wish to. He removed temptation by standing up, pulling Ciel with him. He slid a hand down Ciel’s chest and rested it on the bulge in his trousers; enjoying the way in which Ciel rocked into him, biting his lip.

“Good,” he said. “I have made you promises. I see how – eager – you are, but you should let me keep them, my lord." He stroked the side of Ciel’s face with his other hand, caressing his bruised lips.

“Lie down,” he said softly. “Let me undress you.”

Ciel swallowed. He let Sebastian press him down on the bed and start removing his clothing: his boots and socks, waistcoat, his shirt with its fine buttons, his undershirt, his trousers and underclothes. Sebastian ran his hands and his tongue over each piece of skin he revealed, with Ciel moving restlessly under him and sometimes crying out. He stored everything for future reference - that Ciel shook helplessly when Sebastian licked at his nipples, hand clenched on Sebastian’s shoulder; that a mouth on the inside of his wrist or the tender skin of his inner thigh drew a gasp from him; that he twitched away from Sebastian’s mouth on his foot, or ankle, but arched into a mouth on his hips, his belly.

Sebastian left Ciel’s cock till last, firmly removing Ciel’s hand each time he tried to touch himself. At last, satisfied with this initial exploration, he propped himself up to see Ciel’s face better and gently circled his cock with his fingers, stroking feather-light.

Ciel’s head was tipped back, his eyes closed. His lips were red, bitten.

“Look at me,” said Sebastian.

Ciel opened his eyes. Sebastian tightened his grip a little and watched pleasure cross Ciel’s face. It was fascinating. He could have simply observed it for hours. One day soon, perhaps, he would.

“Stop – ah! – teasing,” said Ciel.

“Very well,” said Sebastian. He removed his hand.

Ciel attempted to glare. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I need – “

Sebastian smiled at him.

“Fine,” said Ciel. “Please. Please, Sebastian, touch me.”

Sebastian widened his smile, to show his teeth. He licked his palm – Ciel blinked – then took hold of Ciel’s cock again and stroked it expertly. Ciel was seventeen: it was amazing he had held out this long. Sebastian watched him avidly, memorizing Ciel’s expression, almost of pain as much as pleasure, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the choked-off sounds he made as he climaxed. Ciel was shaking, with fine tremors, as Sebastian gentled him through it.

“My lord?” said Sebastian, when he judged Ciel could hear him again. “You are not done, I trust? Understand that I ask out of courtesy, because I am not done with you.”

Ciel blinked at the ceiling. “I – would expect nothing less. Would you have me…?”

“You asked me to fuck you, earlier,” said Sebastian. “And I shall.”

Ciel looked at him, disheveled and still breathing hard, but clearly trying to be collected. “I want you to,” he said. “Though if you mean…I have not…that is, entirely…”

Sebastian tried and entirely failed to tamp down a wave of delight and possessiveness.

“I can be gentle, if you wish,” he said, not very convincingly.

Ciel’s lips curled. “When have I ever wished for gentleness?” he said. He propped himself up a little and met Sebastian’s gaze, unselfconscious about his nakedness though it had been – over two years since Sebastian had seen him fully unclothed. “You may hurt me, if you like.”

Sebastian’s eyes kindled. He had paid little attention to his own arousal, easy enough to ignore, but now he let himself feel its ache, the urgent and entirely human desire to fuck Ciel entangled with a demon’s instinct to consume him, to damage him.

“Turn over,” he said, and reveled in Ciel’s immediate compliance.

He had thought at first to be brutal, to be quick, to make Ciel live up to his offer; but Ciel’s skin was dampened with sweat and he smelled extraordinary, he was also too unwound, now – Sebastian would have him drawn tight again, ready to beg further. There were, moreover, parts of Ciel he had yet to taste. He licked a trail down Ciel’s back.

“What are you – “ said Ciel impatiently – “oh!” – as Sebastian moved lower. He slid down the bed, encouraging Ciel to his knees and then holding him in place, licking at him in earnest, using his tongue and every trick he had learned over the years. Ciel was making muffled noises into the pillow, his hips were trying to move. Sebastian reached around and was pleased to find that he was almost hard again: the advantages of youth, he supposed.

It was unadulterated satisfaction, doing this to Ciel, tasting and touching him in places that no-one else knew as Sebastian would, in ways that Ciel would never be able to forget. By morning those other men would be burned from Ciel’s memories, entirely replaced with the knowledge of what Sebastian could do to him.

These were powerful and arousing thoughts, and although Sebastian could easily have continued to tease Ciel at length, he also, very strongly, wished to be inside him. He paused, sitting up to stroke Ciel’s back, and admiring the sight of him spread out for Sebastian’s desires.

“Are you ready, my lord?” he said.

“Damn you,” said Ciel, faintly. “Get on with it. There is – if you need - in the drawer – “ He made a vague gesture. Sebastian leaned over to check and found a pot of ointment, unlabelled, smelling faintly of herbs. He hadn’t seen it before, which was surprising.

“It’s not – it’s for myself,” said Ciel, sounding embarrassed even though his current position left him little to hide.

“Hmm,” said Sebastian. He set aside the consideration of what Ciel might do to himself, alone in his bed, for later enjoyment. He took some ointment from the jar and stroked himself, briefly; he was almost painfully aroused, now that he was paying attention.

Sebastian was proficient at giving all different varieties of human, and sometimes non-humans, pleasure according to their taste; occasionally there had been those whose taste was more aligned to his own…interests. Rarely had any of his past masters or mistresses been incautious enough to ask him to hurt them, though, or if they had they had rapidly regretted it.

He did want to hurt Ciel. But not to the extent that Ciel would not plead with him to continue. He was already very determined to do this again, to see what would happen when Ciel was more experienced, to _give_ him that experience, and so it would never do to take Ciel entirely at his word about pain, this first time at least.

So, with the habit born of long experience of reading Ciel, he pressed into him slowly, watching for distaste. Ciel was breathing very carefully, which meant that Sebastian was indeed hurting him and that he had no intention of asking for mercy: that in itself, in this context, was so erotic that Sebastian had to pause not for Ciel’s sake but to regain his own control.

Finally, he was fully inside Ciel, enclosed within him. Ciel had said nothing; his body tensed and then struggled to relax. Sebastian sat back on his heels, lifting Ciel easily with him. He needed more access. “My lord?” he said.

Ciel drew a shuddering breath. Sebastian curled a hand around Ciel’s cock, reviving its interest.

“I’m alright,” said Ciel, “I want – “

“Hmmm?” said Sebastian. He rocked gently, in and out, and Ciel’s words broke off. He was so close to Sebastian, held in place with one arm – Sebastian licked at his neck, and then bit it gently again, moving inside Ciel all the while.

“Are you in pain?” he said. It was an effort to control his own voice.

“Yes,” said Ciel, bitten off. “No. I want – ah!”

“I know what you want,” said Sebastian, twisting his hand expertly. He could feel Ciel trembling, around him. “You do not need to tell me, my lord.” He thrust into Ciel less gently, and Ciel groaned.

“No-one else will have you like this,” Sebastian said. His own face twisted with the effort of holding back, keeping Ciel where he wanted him. Ciel was hot all around him, against him, his hair darkened with sweat.

“No,” said Ciel. “Only you. Please – please – ” He gripped Sebastian’s hand on his own cock and Sebastian shuddered himself, moving a little faster and harder. Ciel’s body clenched around him and Ciel suddenly cried out, shaking, his seed spilling over Sebastian’s hand and his own.

Sebastian groaned himself. He held Ciel pinned and thrust into him, harder, and faster than most humans could have managed; his own body, denied this long time, could wait no longer, and within moments he was spending himself inside Ciel, a shock of pleasure more sharp than any he remembered in centuries.

Ciel was collapsed against him, limp. Sebastian enjoyed this for a few minutes, and then carefully shifted Ciel on to the bed, checking him unobtrusively for injuries as he did so: other than some new bruises, he seemed unharmed. Ciel opened his eyes and looked at Sebastian.

“Come here,” he said.

Sebastian lowered himself to the pillow. He frowned. Sleeping in the same bed was an extremely human thing to do. He hoped Ciel had no such intent.

Ciel was watching him. He smiled, amused.

“Do not be concerned,” he said. “I am not interested in other – human intimacies.” He stretched, wincing slightly. “If you would, though. You might – come to my bed again.” His tone rose slightly on the last word.

“You can always command me, my lord,” said Sebastian.

“In these circumstances,” said Ciel, waving a hand at their nakedness, the rumpled sheets, “I would prefer not to. I would prefer you were here by choice. Or not at all.”

Sebastian smiled fully. He licked his lips, and his sharp teeth; he could still taste Ciel. Ciel’s gaze did not falter; in fact he was looking at Sebastian’s mouth avidly.

“I can assure you, my lord, that you will have no need to seek for pleasures elsewhere,” Sebastian said.

Ciel nodded. An expression crossed his face. “If…nothing happens to prevent it, I shall be married one day,” he said. “But not until I come of age, at twenty-one. That is a long time hence.”

“Indeed,” said Sebastian.

“Until then, I am yours,” said Ciel, meeting his eyes. “You will ensure I do not forget this.”

“Certainly, my lord,” said Sebastian, his eyes flaring.

“Good,” said Ciel. He yawned, tugging a sheet up to cover himself. “Now – you may go if you wish. You might return in an hour: I will bathe and dress for dinner.”

Sebastian nodded, slid out of bed and began to dress. By the time he had finished, Ciel’s eyes were closed. Sebastian looked at him. Demons were not fond. They did not feel delight. But he felt a bone-deep satisfaction, a satiety in his human self that almost assuaged some of the demon’s hunger; and an intense desire for more, to take whatever Ciel was prepared to give.

He slipped on his gloves, last of all, shook himself, and was the Phantomhive butler again, padding quietly to his daily tasks.

***

It was six weeks later, and at a painfully dull soiree organized by a Duchess, at which Ciel hoped to form a business alliance with a new Russian trading company, that Sebastian saw Dorian Gray, entering the room on the arm of a simpering young woman and looking supremely bored.

Sebastian slid through the crowd to his side before he could possibly have laid eyes on Ciel. He touched Dorian lightly on the arm, suppressing an instinct to rend him apart.

“Mr Gray?” he said politely. “I have a message for you from my master.”

Dorian gave him a blank look.

“Lord Phantomhive,” Sebastian added.

“Oh, Ciel, of course,” said Dorian, looking Sebastian over.

“For your private ear,” said Sebastian.

“Fetch me an ice, darling,” said Dorian to the girl, who pouted at Sebastian and then sailed off across the room.

“I lied,” said Sebastian. He met Dorian’s eyes, looking into them and watching them widen with the realization of Sebastian’s alien nature. “The message is mine. My master is worth a thousand of such as you. If you or your associates come near him again, then – “ He let a set of his knives slide into his grasp and angled himself so that he could show his hand to Dorian, discreetly. “I can enter your house whenever I wish, and be assured I will slash it to ribbons.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dorian. “You must be mad.”

Sebastian grinned at him, or rather bared his teeth at him, and Dorian backed away a step.

“I suggest you heed my words, Mr Gray,” he said. “Now – ” he stepped in close. “Get out.”

Dorian had turned white. As Sebastian moved away, he turned, shakily, and stumbled for the exit.

Sebastian watched him go, in the pleased consciousness of a job well done. He rearranged his weapons, discreetly, and went to observe his master. There was much to be planned, for the night ahead.


End file.
